Opposite of Evil
by Kilania
Summary: Legolas went on a hunting trip with Aragorn, but he is injured, and loses his memory...then runs straight to the welcoming arms of Saruman. Now he serves a new king, not the old fool Thranduil. Rating to be safe! R&R!
1. Who am I?

Elrond turned and watched Estel and Legolas depart merrily. It was so soon since their last foray. So soon. Now the figures, upon prancing steeds, were swallowed by the trees. Elrond's blue-grey eyes narrowed, but he called after them,

"May all the blessings of the Valar be with you!"

Little did he know that he would not see them again for quite some time.

***

A tall blonde elf turned in his saddle and grinned at his mortal companion.

"Hey, Aragorn, I still remember that time you pushed me into a lake." His eyes sparkled.

Aragorn chuckled at the memory. "Hey, you stole my pipe-weed, so I thought I'd just take my oppertunity when you _leaned over_ the water..."

He trailed off, letting the words speak for themselves.

"You know I detest the smell of Southfarthing leaf, and I prefer to keep the air clean of smoke."

Aragorn shrugged, still chuckling to himself, but his smile faded as he saw Legolas's mouth open to call a warning, and his blue eyes widened in horror at something behind Aragorn. The Ranger whipped around to look, but a branch just whacked him square across the face.

Seething, he turned to hear Legolas laughing.

"Keep your eyes on the road, mellon nín." Quipped the elf.

"What road?" joked Aragorn, anger fading, although a bruise started forming. The horses padded steadily on, eyes fixed ahead, steps light and cheerful. They were going hunting. Ahead of him, the elf's laughter rang out again, clear and pure. Aragorn smiled. The road would be much lessened while traveling with Legolas.

That night, they tethered their horses and slept in a clearing, changing watches. Sauron was gathering his strength, and they did not want to be caught unawares. The moon shone, a waning half, and clouds scudded across, always in a hurry to get to the other side. They drove their steeds hard the next week, wanting to make it past Isenguard as quickly as possible.

"Alas! We misjudged our time, Aragorn. There shall be only a crescent of the moon when we pass Orthanc, and the horses need rest." He puncuated this sentence by offering his horse a drink of water. It drank eagerly, sides heaving from the run.

"We do not rest here, then. In that clump of trees." said Aragorn shortly, also weary from the ride. The "clump of trees" turned out to be a small forest, just missing the mark where they would have been noted on a map. The trees were bare when they entered, as it was late fall. Dead and decaying leaves muffled their footsteps. Legolas pressed his ear to a tree, listening intently.

His face was troubled. "The trees are silent. There is not the faintest stirring of understanding or life within them, yet they live. I have seen this happen once before, a long time ago. But that was the time when I strayed too near Dol Guldur. Too near." He refused to elaborate when Aragorn shot him a questioning look. They unpacked, as silent as the rest of the forest. The day swiftly darkened, and clouds covered the thin sliver of a moon. Aragorn had just drawn his sword, intending to clean its blade, rather unecessary, and Legolas stood a little ways off, staring and listening into the shadows.

Then he made a quick motion to Aragorn, who came closer, blade still drawn.

"Yrrch!" He hissed. Aragorn ran to the horses and untied them, whispering soft and urgent commands for them to run back, away from the coming battle.

"Orcs." He translated briefly. "By the sound of them, it looks like they were trying to creep up on us. Too late to run now; we must fight."

Legolas responded with a grim nod and a set face. He drew his bow, and fired it as the first wave came roaring out of the darkness.

Soon, they drew too close to aquedatly fire at, so Legolas drew his twin blades, and stood in a ready stance.

With a yell, Aragorn launched himself into the fray, Andúril gleaming coldly. The clouds drew back to shine the moon upon the glade.

Legolas followed his friend, his deadly blades making equal work.

Defensive was their stance, and the orcs fell back, dismayed by the whirling blades. Then several giant Uruk-Hai surged forward, and the two companions were seperated. They valiantly fought on, each doing no deed greater than the other. Legolas slit the throat of one and ducked under another coming up behind him, with a foot pivoting to avoid a fallen arrow. Aragon lopped a head off, and it flew to crash and bring down a startled Orc.

Then Aragon turned, and saw a blade humming in the direction of the elf's head, and shouted. His cry was too late.

"Legolas!" The world seemed to slow down, and become silent. The blade was twisted slightly, and the flat slammed into his friend's head. Legolas crumpled to the ground, mouth still open slightly in a little gasp of shock.

Despair transformed into new fury, and the world blasted back with sounds. Aragorn leaped, and yelling incoherently slew many. He knew he was going to die, and a tear of hopelessness and grief ran down his face. Then a distant horn blew...the Enemy stopped fighting him. They turned tail and fled. Soon they were all gone, and even their cries has faded away. The Ranger crawled over to Legolas, and took his wrist.

There was a slight pulsing. "Alive!" Breathed Aragorn in disbelief. He snatched up his pack, however trampled the herbs inside might be, they were reasonably usable. He also tore a strip off his sleeve to use as a bandage, and pressed the herbs into it, letting some juices soak in. Then he wrapped it around the unconcious elf's head, and settled in for a restless night.

***

The silent trees were alighted with a pale yellow, the first light of dawn. With a start, Aragorn awoke from his dozing, and ran to Legolas, who reclined nearby. He looked ankiously at his friend's face, the white bandages stark against the blonde hair. Then two cloudy blue eyes opened, looking into his. Startled, Aragorn stepped back a few paces, then smiled in relief. Legolas seemed fine. Then his friend rose, and they stared at each other.

"Who...Who are you...?" The words came, slow, halting, suspicious. Aragorn gaped. What was wrong with Legolas? Surely this was not a joke.

"I am Aragorn, mellon nín. Estel. Strider." He added, hoping to see comprehension come over Legolas' features. It did not.

Legolas' eyes drifted to the sword lying drawn, bare, and glinting next to Aragorn, then those clouded eyes snapped back to Aragorn's face.

"Why are you keeping me here, stranger?" He pressed a slim hand to his head. His eyes grew wilder as mad thoughts raced through his head.

"No, but..." Began Aragorn, but the elf cut him off, backing away as he talked.

"Why have you injured me to the head so? No...It must have been a mistake...you must have meant to kill me instead!" The words grew louder and louder, then he turned around and started running, snatching up his daggers and bow. Aragorn ran after him, intending to tackle him and shake him out of this madness, but Legolas seemed to be quicker than light; he darted away into the trees.

Then a dark pang of dread racked Aragorn. The elf had lost his memory. And he was heading toward Isengard.

-Authors Note:- Disclaimer: Legolas is not my character. Neither is Aragorn. Dang. ;) Please Read+review!


	2. A New Master

Legolas fled hastily into the trees. They bent down and seemed to whisper to him, but he became filled with fear at their malicious murmurings. His fevered mind dwelt on nothing to long, and he stumbled, falling face first into a burbling stream. His heart was beating quickly, and he panted from the long flight away from the stranger. He nervously glanced at the trees again, then drank the cool water.

'_Where am I?'_ He wondered, still confused. His reflection was distorted in the moving waters, and he got up again. He must keep moving so this so-called Aragorn could not track him down and murder him while he slept, or rested. Legolas limped away. He frowned. If only there was not such a thick, drowning _mist_ in his head. Then he could properly think. The forest was dark, morning though it may have been. Then the weary elf saw light ahead, welcoming light! He rushed into a clearing, with thick grasses muffling his footsteps.

There, upon a small stone, sat a peaceful old man. His face was old, noble, and serene, and he was garbed in white, that seemed to flash with myriad colors. He carried a great black staff with a gleaming white jewel at the top. Black eyes opened and stared into blue ones.

They were mild, full of veiled sympathy.

"What is an Elf doing here, alone and lost?" Legolas stirred, wary, but something inside him urged him to trust this man.

"Yes...I am quite lost, Grandfather. Do you, mayhaps, know where this is?" He spoke kindly in return, and was rewarded. However, Legolas did not catch the hidden cruel triumph that flashed in the other's eyes.

"This is but a small forest next to my great abode, Orthanc. Of course I would know where this is, for this is very near my home, my tower. I was about to leave, actually, for there are dangerous Men wandering this forest, seeking to harm me in any way they can, in my place of peace." The last part was spoken sadly, softly; Legolas realized that the stranger, Aragorn, must have been one of those men.

"I myself was nearly killed by one. Here, Grandfather, perhaps I could escort you back. I am very skilled with the bow and knives." The offer was genuine.

"Thank you...Though I am not as helpless as I seem," said the old man, amusement in his voice. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve. And I am no man. My name is Saruman, and I am an Istari, a wizard. It is an honor to meet an elf like you; I have not talked with one so courteous for many a day."

Legolas was astounded, but even so, gratified to learn his new friend was this powerful.

"I am Legolas. Of where, and who I am..." He hesitated. "...I am not sure." He realized how ridiculous that must have sounded, but the wizard was nodding knowingly.

"Your purpose may come to you yet. Perhaps, then, in the meantime, I may offer you hospitality. Orthanc in well-equipped and defended by many. They look foul, but inside, they are of well-intent, and they follow orders readily. They can be spared. They are called Orcs, and the kind here are Uruk-Hai. Let us go." Something threatened to push back the mist in Legolas' mind at the word _orc_, but then it was surrounded and defeated, and something snapped. A dark shadow engulfed his thoughts, and he strode after Saruman with a slight grin.

They walked through the woods, heedless of the terrible trees. They seemed to be as if in a gale; their uppermost branches swayed with fury, and deep groanings of loss were emitted by a select few. Legolas barely glanced at the trees; they were just _things_. They were not really alive, who cared about them? Then they emerged onto an open plain, and his keen eyes saw a dark shape in the distance, and two horses whinnied near. One was of medium height, with night-black eyes, a dappled grey. Saruman climbed onto it, and patted its head in welcome.

The other was a giant of a horse, sleek and black, and its eyes were flaming red. It whinnied, a challenge, and bared sharp teeth. Legolas was not surprised to see minature fangs in the front, tips just showing when its mouth was closed. Saruman shrugged apologetically.

"I'm afraid you'll have to take Carach Dae; his name means Shadow Fang. He was always a tough one to manage, but he is deadly fast and quite a help when facing enemies. He saved my life once, now mayhaps he will do the same for you."

"Thank you, Saruman. It will be...enjoyable to ride such a steed." replied Legolas dryly, and mounted the beast in one swift movement. It submitted rather quickly, and allowed Legolas to lead him with a quick whispered word or a nudge of the knees. He had no saddle, nor harness and reins. They trotted away from the shadowy eaves, and the horses sprung into a full gallop, dashing their way to Isengard.

The way passed swiftly, and soon enough great gates wrought of dark steel, iron, and stone opened soundlessly to let the two in. Legolas gaped at the display of strength shown before him, as they rode down a chained path to a tall, pointed tower. These "Orcs" were everywhere, hacking, training, fighting, building, destroying, and he saw great vents leading down beneath the rocky surface. No sympathy stirred in him when he caught sight of a group tossing small trees into a roaring fire.

***

Now Legolas swept out of the armoury, delighted with his choice. He had spent two days listening and learning to the councils of Saruman, and that fell, enchanting voice advised him on many matters. To cap it all, he had been offered a permanent home here, and access to all the rooms but one: The Palantír room. Oh yes, he had been told what was in there, but that he was by all means to stay out.

Now he was garbed in dark mail, dimly glinting, and plated gauntlets, spiked at the knuckles slightly, sturdy boots, and a black cloak to go unseen in the night. Even his knives looked different. Somehow, they had been changed in the passing time. Before, they were shining white, long and elegant. Now they were daggers of death, jagged spikes, and they were ever so little, longer. Their handles were twin leather covered hard iron.

Saruman entered, and stood there, appraising his new apprentice.

"You look...intimidating." He said finally. Legolas simply nodded, face expressionless. "I have a task for you. A party of elves has been spotted browsing around the wood. Eliminate them. And remember...build your anger. It may come to something yet." He left, not meaning to explain those last words. Legolas followed suit, and exited Orthanc into bright sunshine. He peered closely at the group of Uruk-Hai standing at attention before him, then at last said,

"You are to accompany me to a group of elves. Kill them all." His voice was cold, unfleeling. His throughts seemed oddly clear, such a contrast to the murk before. He was possessed of that cruel, hard sense of purpose that preceded murder. He cast off the dark cloak and whistled. The Orcs hurridely shoved each other aside to make path for a horse galloping to a stop before the elf, and then stood there, a stablehand clinging to his back. He plunged and reared, and Legolas watched him for a while. He then took a step forward, and laid a hand on the beast's neck. He quieted immediately, and the young boy frightfully fell off and took his leave, bowing accordingly to one in such a high rank.

Legolas mounted Carak, not troubled by his fearsome looks. The group set off, leaving Isengard and heading North. They plodded along at a steady pace, swords and mail clinking and heavy feet trampling dead grasses. A chill, ominous wind blew in their faces, but at last they crossed the border of the woods. Legolas pulled his hood up, not wanting to be recognized, strangers though these might be. Saruman had warned him of their fondness for lies and deceit. He would guard himself well. Carak suddenly reared, and arrows shot in. The orcs panicked and raised a hellish din, but Legolas said one fierce command. Immediately they obeyed and rushed to engage the enemy. Now it was the elves' turn to defend themselves.

He caught his breath. They looked like him, but their hair was dark. Yet his mind picked out what he thought was a terrible, horrific flaw in their eyes, and their faces seemed oddly distorted, unlike his own perfection. He was content to hang back at first, but some of his party were overwhelmed. Then he swung of Carak, and the horse accompanied him into the fray. Those dark knives flashed and spun, and soon only one elf was left, trapped against a dead tree. His face was slightly fearful, and rather young.

"Wait." Legolas held a hand back to the Orcs. They obeyed, and gathered in a circle to the last elf could not escape. He strode forward, and pulled back his hood.

The other's eyes widened. Confusion showed plainly, but when he opened his mouth to speak, no words came out. Legolas watched, amused by this creature's attempts to talk. His hands tingled slightly, oddly. Finally the elf stuttered,

"Legolas? But..how...you are dead... what are you doing here? The Yrrch, why are they not attacking you?" Then it seemed to hit him.

"Yes, little one. But as you know, or should know, I am supposed to be dead. I am not. Unfortunately, someone else has to die today. The elf never had a chance to cry out. A flash of red fire leaped, and the body crumpled to the ground silently. Legolas regarded the young features coldly. His hands still felt strange with the sudden rush of power. _Magic_. He had done magic. Legolas, the loyal servant of the great wizard Saruman. Perhaps some of the Istari's powers came onto him, somehow. But when Legolas spoke. his voice was unfeeling.

"Clean this mess up, and we will report back to Saruman." The Uruks stared at him in awe, then fell to.

Legolas went back to Carak. The horse appeared to be chewing on something.

"Carak, I did magic...and I think Saruman might have known I would. There is more to myself than I thought."

The horse snorted through his nostrils, and resumed chewing. Legolas laughed slightly, and patted the horse's black muzzle.

"Don't chew on dead meat, Carak. It's unhealthy. I'll have some nice cooked treats for you when we get back." His steed dipped that horrific, yet majestic head in response. They stared at the carnage before them with a feeling of utmost content.

--Author's Note: Legolas likes killing elves. Evil, dontcha think? ;D R&R! --


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